Your Anti-Hero

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In October of 2022, Taylor Swift released her album Midnights, which contains the hit song “Anti-Hero.”⁠1 Part of this musical poem’s brilliance is that it’s a personal confession of a universal truth, namely that there’s an anti-hero in all of us. 

That’s not a very comfortable truth to admit, as Swift does with endearingly playful and sardonic honesty. It’s a lot easier to listen to someone else sing about her emotional struggles and relationship-sabotaging behavior than to face our own. The song is a hit because it hits home for anyone with some self-awareness.

We’d rather see ourselves as the hero of our own story, not the anti-hero; entire marketing programs⁠2 are built on this principle. But the truth is not so simple. The paradox is that we’re both heroes and anti-heroes, or if you will, there’s a hero and an anti-hero within each of us. It’s why Swift can lament getting older but never wiser; why she can identify the prices, vices, and crisis associated with her own devices; and why she can ultimately confess that she’s the problem.

Why do we stare at the sun but not in the mirror? Looking in the mirror can be scary, but perhaps the more powerful reason is that looking in the mirror is lonely. The beginning of a new year, which you may have celebrated on a midnight not long ago, is a natural time for reflection and resolution to change. In 2023, I hope you’ll decide to get to know your anti-hero better, and I hope you’ll also find a trustworthy, empathetic person—a therapist, mentor, counselor, coach, or just a true friend—to be a living mirror for you. 

Best wishes for this new year!

1 https://digital.umusic.com/taylorswiftmidnights

2 https://storybrand.com

The Power of Positive Peer Pressure

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For the first time in my now middle-aged life, I recently ran a half marathon. If you would have asked me a year ago what I thought of such athletic endeavors, I might have called them a popular form of torture. So what in the world could have inspired me to do this?

Positive peer pressure.

A friend invited and challenged me to train for the race and run it with her. Knowing her enthusiasm for athletic feats, I said, “Sure. Why not?” She sent me a training plan, and we began to train, each in our own cities. On the day of the half marathon, as we were preparing to drive downtown to the starting line, she told me she had decided not to run due to an injury from which she had not sufficiently recovered. It was wise not to tell me beforehand. Already dressed and ready to go, I wouldn’t back out—despite the freakish cold front that had dropped the temperature to 33º on a March morning in Alabama.

And so with all the other runners, I gathered in downtown Montgomery for the start of the race. I had trained at just under a blazing fast 12 minutes per mile, so I placed myself between the appropriate pacing groups and waited for the gun to crack the air. We were off, and more motivated than ever not to stop, for who would want to walk in such cold?

It turned out to be a lovely jog through the city. I had gotten the clothing right and was warm enough. The course was laid out well. The water stations were adequate—and it gave me joy to see a few parishioners of the small Greek Orthodox community where I serve part-time staffing the first water station. Of course, the half marathon wasn’t without its challenges: running up the hill and over the interstate on Perry Street at mile 10 was brutal, as was the wind on the overpass. At no other point did I want so much to stop.

But I didn’t stop. I ran the whole thing, 13.1 miles. And (probably due in part to adrenaline) at an average mile pace 30 seconds faster than that at which I had trained.

All because of positive peer pressure. And fittingly for this reflection, my training partner met me at mile 12 and ran the last mile with me. 

I’m not sure I’ll ever run another half marathon. If I reach old age, I’d like to enjoy the functioning of my knees without unnecessary pain. But the whole experience was an immensely gratifying achievement. I hope I never forget it and that I apply the lesson and strategy of positive peer pressure over and over again. And as you, dear reader, work toward your goals, which are often in a “discomfort zone” if they truly have transformative potential, I hope you will remember the immense power of positive peer pressure and consider ways to give yourself this incredible support for your challenge. 

May your efforts be blessed!

The Insult of Inattentiveness

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As a high school English teacher, one of my favorite activities to organize for my students was a Shakespearean insult contest. Two students would face off and cast their most acerbic aspersions at each other, ideally to the cheers and jeers of the rest of the class. It was far more fun than slogging through the text of entire acts of the plays.

It turns out that there are a lot of ways to insult people. One of them is so common that we may not even think of it as an insult:

Enlightened hearing takes in what is said. He who is lacking in [this quality] insults the person who has spoken. —Maximos the Confessor* 

More often than I’d like, I find myself distracted in conversations, and sometimes it’s my own fault. Most recently, a friend called while I was doing light office work. Instead of calling back later or stopping my work to give my complete attention, I tried to do both. Even if photocopying doesn’t take a lot of attention, the tiny bit it takes made me less present to a dear friend, who was—fortunately for me—sensitive and gracious to offer to talk at a later time that would be good for each of us.

Perhaps considering our failure to listen attentively as an insult to the speaker will motivate us to give more attention to the attention we give others.

*In his 2nd Century on Love, #97

The Calculus of Priority

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No one can have it all. Knowing this, however, doesn’t seem to prevent me from trying to have it all every now and then. So sometimes I write to remind myself of truths that I easily forget, like this one about trade-offs:

He who is not indifferent to fame and pleasure, as well as to the love of riches that exists because of them and increases them, cannot cut off occasions for anger. And he who does not cut these off cannot attain perfect love.

Maximos the Confessor, First Century on Love, #75

Not many people will strive for one thing—like “perfect love” or an Olympic gold medal—at the expense of all others. If they do, it’s because that one thing is worth it to them. Most of us will pursue some sort of balance, maintaining what we deem to be the best prioritized tension between everything we want. This calculus of priority is something we all need to work out for ourselves, but it is a zero-sum game.

If you’re as prone as I am to forget this reality, it would do you good to consider questions about your priorities that help you rebalance or refocus: What do you want most? About what do you care most?

Love in 3D

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Conscious of Marshall McLuhan’s famous statement, “the medium is the message,” a friend recently shared these thoughts with me:

We are about to enter into a new phase of virtual technology. The iPhone 13 mini is supposed to be the end of the line. What is next is goggles. Someone from my high school reunion wrote me that she is “hooked” on OCULUS II. In keeping with the insight that “the medium is the message,” I think we can say that we become what we do. If we spend our time doing virtual things, we will become virtual people. If we spend our time doing things in the physical world, we become real people in that world. 

There is no better time than Christmas to reflect on our use of digital media, for Christmas (at least in its original, non-commercial meaning) is the commemoration of the earthly birth of Jesus Christ, whom His followers believe to be God—timeless and bound by nothing created, able to alter created matter instantaneously by His word alone. From a faithful perspective, the birth of Jesus transformed the world. Even from a secular perspective, it altered the course of human history in a profound way—not instantaneously like a “viral” but ephemeral GIF but slowly and enduringly over time, person to person.

The myriad bits and bytes zipping across cyberspace supported so many relationships and so much work during the outbreak of the coronavirus pandemic of 2020. Digital media were a gift in so many ways, chiefly in helping us avoid infection while maintaining relationships. But in what ways are digital media detrimental to us? How is a remote relationship different than a local one? What dimension do we lose when a relationships shifts from 3D to 2D? What are the human limits for remote relationships? How many can one maintain before the time they take negatively impacts one’s local life? Who gets to define what “community” means and how? Lots of questions, but these are questions of our time.

Along with Jesus’ passion, His Nativity is for faithful Christians one of the greatest expressions of love in 3D—and a paradoxical “scandal” of particularity—local, yet drawing magi from afar and angels from above. As we gather during these days—whether at a church or a home, whether for a dinner or a party, for Christmas caroling in our neighborhood’s streets or hot cocoa in a cul-de-sac—we convey the message of these days in the truest way: in the medium of our flesh.

Words of Thanks

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My uncle Stathi is an enthusiastic etymologist. In simpler English, he enjoys studying the meanings, origins, and histories of words. During a visit several weeks ago, he reflected on the meaning of the Greek word for giving thanks, ευχαριστώ (eucharisto). Had I ever considered, he asked in wide-eyed wonder, the different shades of meaning for this verb as it is expressed in different languages? 

Even if I had, it would have been a sin to stop Uncle Stathi from speaking, possessed as he was by enthusiasm. He went on to compare the words for giving thanks in three linguistic families, German–English, French, and Greek. The German and English words, he said, suggest that remembrance is an aspect of thankfulness.1 They are almost as if to say, “I will remember with thankfulness what you’ve done for me.” The French word, he said, conveys the sense that I will pay you back for what you’ve done for me.2 The Greek word, finally, suggests the connotation of “true joy” in the expression of thanks.3

As we two former English teachers shared this moment of linguistic nerdiness, sitting at the simple table on which a small stack of dictionaries rested, I marveled at how many meanings there are in the experience and expression of thanks, and how these meanings are conveyed in the many languages of humanity. If the phrase “thank you” is a gemstone, its glittering facets are the many languages of planet Earth. And he only mentioned three of them! I welcome you, dear reader, to share your own linguistic insights on this topic. I would be delighted to learn them.

This most recent trip to Greece was filled with moments for which I am thankful—this conversation with my uncle, passing time with my cousins, the opportunity to venerate holy relics and wonderworking icons on Mount Athos. And when I think of the day I spent with my dear friend Konstantinos, who could not have been more generous in the gifts he gave me, both the words “merci” and ευχαριστώ come to mind. But perhaps the most powerful memory I have from this trip was the thankfulness of a group of monks with whom I shared a rustic snack after we had spent a few hours harvesting olives on a mountainside. Theirs was the “true joy” of people who have received gifts that cannot be repaid—forgiveness and grace—and who know they will be remembered by God even when their own memories fail.

Whatever language you speak, I hope this season brings such an abundance of thankfulness to you that you cannot help expressing it far into 2022, not just on the day of Thanksgiving but every day.

1 https://www.etymonline.com/word/thank#etymonline_v_10711

2 https://www.etymonline.com/word/mercy?ref=etymonline_crossreference#etymonline_v_14664

3 https://www.etymonline.com/word/Eucharist#etymonline_v_11671

Bridle the Beast

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Over the past few years—a stressful period during which a contentious presidential election, a coronavirus pandemic, and the death of George Floyd all occurred—you may have felt some anger from time to time, beyond your normal experience of the feeling. Even if you wouldn’t call it “anger”, increased levels of impatience or frustration certainly count.

My interest in anger began a few years ago, when—to my shock—I found myself resembling this masterful description of the wrathful:

When some word or deed or suspicion causing annoyance has roused this disease [of wrath], then the blood boils round the heart, and the soul rises up for vengeance. As in pagan fables some drugged drink changes human nature into animal form, so a man is sometimes seen to be changed by wrath into a boar, or dog, or panther, or some other wild animal. His eyes become bloodshot; his hair stands on end and bristles; his voice becomes harsh and his words sharp. His tongue grows numb with passion and refuses to obey the desires of his mind. His lips grow stiff; and unable to articulate a word, they can no longer keep the spittle produced by passion inside the mouth, but dribble froth disgustingly when they try to speak. 

Gregory of Nyssa, Homily 2 on the Beatitudes

Not my proudest moment. But because what I’ve learned from this experience may be helpful, I write to share a few thoughts about anger.

First of all, anger is a gift. It’s a natural response to a threat and a motivation to protect what needs protection, a sign that something needs to be confronted. Moreover, it’s the energy to get things done. Without anger it’s difficult—if not impossible—to achieve certain goals.

But for all the good it can do, anger is a double-edged sword with enormous destructive potential. It needs to be managed. Here are three principles by which to do that:

  1. Bridle the Beast—Sometimes you’ll be fuming. Unless you’re an extraordinarily virtuous person or surrounded with relationships of exceptional trust, it’s generally not advisable to blow your top. Practice self-control, the ability to pause between stimulus and response—at least for that moment if not forever.
  2. Look it in the Face—Once you separate yourself from the anger you feel and objectify it, you can examine it, which will enable you to state at whom or what you’re angry and why. Very often, just hearing yourself articulate these facts can reframe or refresh your perspective. Sometimes you’ll find your anger justified, many other times not. Once you can say why and at whom or what you’re angry, you can engage in confrontation much more constructively.
  3. Relax the Reins—Sometimes the anger will stick around and move you to action. Sometimes it will trot away after being identified as selfish or unjustified. But if it remains, you must let yourself take appropriate action and engage in constructive confrontation and conflict. Without this final step, you run the danger of repression, resentment, and even physical illness. 

A more difficult spiritual path by which to manage anger is to purify it through detachment and the uprooting of self-will. Desire, particularly when it’s thwarted or its object is threatened, drives anger. The more we sacrifice self-will in favor of a desire for something greater, the less problematic anger will be.

That’s all very philosophical, and there’s a chance we could still blow our tops from time to time. So finally, humility and asking forgiveness are indispensible for those moments when our failure to manage our anger turns it into a bucking bronco instead of a well-trained racehorse. 

A Cure for Instability

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The deadline for mailing gifts to arrive in time for Christmas is quickly approaching. If you’re lucky, you may receive a very personal gift during this holiday season. Even if you’re not so fortunate as to get a hand-knitted scarf from a friend who took up yarn-wrangling during the pandemic, you’ll probably receive something. You’ll probably give too.

Most of us know intuitively that something has been lost in our post-industrial, technologically advanced world. In the midst of unprecedented wealth, power, and knowledge, there is a tangible disconnectedness. Add to it political tension, a coronavirus pandemic, and the resulting economic disruption, and we live in a world of profound instability.

In the midst of this, I was lucky enough to give a gift to someone who understands gifts the way ancient people do. Nearly every time we speak by phone, she reminds me of the gift I gave her and how meaningful it is to her. And she recently gave me the “meta-gift” of understanding gifts the way she does, a book that taught me that there is a cure for this instability in which we live, for which the holiday season presents a golden opportunity: the giving and receiving of gifts. 

In The Gift,º Marcel Mauss presents a stunning survey of gift-related practices in ancient societies from every corner of the globe. His observations and conclusions provide us with a few precious principles that all of us can apply to create stability in an unstable world:

  • A gift is a living thing: It carries with it the spirit of the person who gave it. To give it is to give part of yourself, and to receive it is to receive a part of someone else’s essence. When we give and receive gifts in a truly personal way, we revivify our experience of life.
  • Giving is a good cultural norm: “In ancient societies, people were anxious to give. There was no occasion of importance when one was not obliged to invite friends and share the produce of the chase or forest; to redistribute everything at a potlatch; or to recognize services from chiefs, vassals, or relatives by means of gifts. Failing these obligations—at least for the nobles—etiquette was violated and rank was lost.” The social pressure to give gifts is not a bad thing.
  • It’s in our best self-interest to give: There is an old Hindu teaching that the secret of fortune and happiness is to give, not to keep, not to seek but to distribute it that it may return in this world and in the other. According to this teaching, self-renunciation and getting only to give is the real source of profit and the law of nature. It is in the nature of food, in particular, to be shared; to fail to give others a part is to “kill its essence”, to destroy it for oneself and for others: “He who eats without [this] knowledge kills his food, and his food kills him.”
  • Giving and receiving gifts creates a sense of reciprocity and connectedness: The person who receives a gift does not merely recognize that he has received it, but realizes that he himself is in a sense “bought” until it is paid for.

Mauss concludes with a few suggestions for modern societies: “The rich should come once more, freely or by obligation, to consider themselves as the treasurers of their fellow citizens…Meanwhile, the individual must work and be made to rely more upon himself than upon others.” Ending with the famous image of King Arthur’s round table, Mauss asserts: “The mere pursuit of individual ends is harmful to the ends and peace of the whole, to the rhythm of its work and pleasures, and hence in the end to the individual.”

These ideas have implications on many levels, from the individual to the national. In a time of instability, giving and receiving gifts may be the most deeply human way to cure it and the disconnectedness that fuels it. 

º https://wwnorton.com/books/The-Gift/

Fear’s Function

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If you were walking through the woods and saw a bear, which then turned to look at you, I hope you would feel some fear.ª The function of fear is to protect us from threats. 

Those pursuing power and greatness sometimes come to believe that the greater or more powerful they are, the less they have to fear. But this is a dangerous error.

When a man grows inwardly and increases in holiness, he is something great and marvelous. But just as the elephant fears the mouse, so the holy man is still afraid of sin, lest after preaching to others he himself “should be cast away” (1 Corinthians 9.27).

Saint John of Karpathos

If the saint fears sin, what does the person aspiring to worldly greatness fear? The lawsuit alleging racial discrimination or sexual harassment? Being convicted of theft or fraud? He often doesn’t seem to fear them before they happen, too late for fear to protect him.

In his first inaugural address,º President Franklin D. Roosevelt delivered the famous line, “The only thing we have to fear is fear itself.” It was meant to exhort his hearers to progressive action and away from the fear of paralysis and retreat caused by the Great Depression.

But please don’t quote President Roosevelt’s line out of context. Only a fool would aspire to be fearless.

ª Unless, of course, you were Saint Seraphim of Sarov.

º https://avalon.law.yale.edu/20th_century/froos1.asp

Prediction & Presence

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There’s a lot of effort put into forecasting—from the stock market and customer behavior, to the weather and the amount of material a company should order for manufacturing wool socks if the winter will be an especially cold one. Accurate prediction can be a powerful tool for management. 

But in human relationships and leadership, prediction has a much more limited value since it can trap us in rigidity, calcifying our thinking, emotional responses, or behavior. It’s helpful for the parent as manager to know there’s a high likelihood of a hungry or tired child at a certain hour, but it doesn’t exactly instill a growth mindset in anyone when we are too attached to a prediction about them. One of my seminary professors once called this “the sin of familiarity.”

We fall into this trap because prediction is attractive, for it creates the illusion of control.

In his beautiful book A Primer for Forgetting,ª Lewis Hyde shares “a discipline of the present moment” from British psychoanalyst Wilfred Bion, namely divesting oneself of memory and desire in one’s encounters with another:

To make room for intuitive knowing, every analytic session “must have no history and no future.” The therapist who knows something from the past may as well forget it to make room for the unknown…“do not remember past sessions.“…for when such things occupy the mind, the “evolution of the session” won’t be seen at the only time it can be seen, in the present moment. Second, avoid all desire, especially “desire for results, ‘cure,’ or even understanding.”

My friend George, part of whose work is in the aforementioned forecasting for wool sock production, reframes and expands on this idea: “Interacting with others based on our expectations from past encounters can make us callous to the possibility that others (and even ourselves) can and do change. When we expect certain behavior, we’re likely to frame and respond to others’ behavior in the form of a self-fulfilling prophecy, and doing so, we may fail to recognize growth and change, which can prolong resentment and delay forgiveness.”

And so for an alliteratively plosive principle: Don’t let prudent predictions of the probable preclude the practice of presence to the possible.

ª https://us.macmillan.com/books/9780374237219